


Reluctant Rise of the BoyKing

by Roar_Ra



Series: Sin [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dragons, Hellhounds, M/M, Politics, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roar_Ra/pseuds/Roar_Ra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of Sin.Sinner.Sineater - did Sam know what he was getting into when he took the crown?  Nope.<br/>____</p><p>The boys didn’t mean to become keepers of the supernatural-on-earth contingent…  it just kind’a happened accidentally.</p><p>“Awww, come on Cas…”  Sam knows he isn’t able to keep the whine out of his voice this time.  “I didn’t mean to-“</p><p>“Sam, you’ve tried ‘misplacing’ it in the dungeon, the library, the graveyard, the garage, the microwave and then you shoved it in the damn toaster – This is the crown of the antichrist, not a piece of bread.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“No throne!”

“You have to have a throne.” Castiel, Crowley and Hannah collectively.

An accusing finger is pointed at Hannah. “You have a desk! Why can’t I have a desk?”

“MY people know how to follow rules, Sam. YOU are sitting on a nuclear time bomb of drunk vigilantes, penitent demons, monsters, rouge angels and hellhounds-“

“They need structure, Moose. And none of them are going to be impressed or intimidated by a clear plastic ikea piece of crap!” 

Hannah looks vaguely offended by Crowley’s description of her desk.

“Why don’t I get a throne?”

“Shut up, Dean!” Castiel, Crowley and Hannah as one. This is starting to freak Sam out.

“No, wait, fair point. Dean is my knight-“

“He was my knight first…” Crowley interrupts, churlishly.

“And Sam, I know you don’t like it, but you have to stop accidentally ‘losing’ your crown”

“Awww, come on Cas…” Sam knows he isn’t able to keep the whine out of his voice this time. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Sam, you’ve tried ‘misplacing’ it in the dungeon, the library, the graveyard, the garage, the microwave and then you shoved it in the damn toaster – This is the crown of the antichrist, not a piece of bread, and you have to wear it, at least for public events.”

Sam mutters something about it making his horns itch as Castiel arranges it firmly on his head.

“Come on, Sammy, it looks kinda sexy.” Sam feels a very unsubtle grope and regrets for the thousandth time getting Dean a tail. Sam throws his brother a glare but stops complaining. Castiel nods in approval of the crown’s perch on Sam’s head and ghosts a quick kiss along his brow. “Dean’s right, it does suit you.” 

Sam almost smiles, but then Crowley has to ruin the moment.

“Now onto paragraph 11,451, subsection twenty three; in regards to…..”

Sam puts his head on the desk, trying not to whimper as the thorns bite into his forehead.

Things used to be so simple… 

 

  
The boys didn’t mean to become keepers of the supernatural-on-earth contingent… it just kind’a happened accidentally.

It starts with the hellhounds. The creatures seem drawn to Dean, following him around like lost pups until he breaks one night during a snowstorm – they’re waiting for Dean by the door looking like a snow hill with huge sad eyes as he unlocks the bunker door. Dammit, he thought SAM was bad; this is like someone dropped a bag of puppies outside to freeze. 

“Okay, okay, you can come in, but just for tonight!”

 

Three weeks later Dean’s sitting by the fireplace with Cujo (the largest), at his right gnawing on leftover rib bone, while Whiskey (his personal favorite because the hound will occasionally try stealing a nip from Dean’s glass) Foxtrot, Romeo, and Juliet are in a dog pile by the fireplace. 

Dean’s never been much of a dog-guy, until he sorta became one, (an actual dog, that is.) Now he thinks they’re pretty cool, in an ‘invisible army at my command’ sort of way. He feels content, smug almost, since Sam and Cas haven’t noticed so far-

“Dammit, Dean. Get your hell-mutt to give that back, it’s the bone of a zealot for fucks sake, do you think those grow on trees!?!” Dean chokes on his whiskey, as Sam strides over and grabs the bone from Cujo, bopping him on the nose with a heavy codex. “I leave a big bowl of ghoul bones in the dungeon just for you guys, and everyone else is fine with those, but no you have to test the limits – bad dog!”

To Dean’s horror, the dog flattens its ears in shame and rolls over, showing it’s belly in an act of submission. Sam’s expression softens and he rubs the exposed skin with a soft forgiving coo. 

“I’ll bet your daddy thought he was so smart, thought he was the only one who could see you guys, the jerk, but that’s okay, you’re a good boy, most of the time…” Sam retrieves the bone, steals a kiss from Dean and cuffs him on the back of the head as he leaves. “And keep that scrawny one out of my beer… don’t even know how he manages without opposable thumbs...”

Dean gapes at the retreating form the only thing he can think to do is yell “You know for a kid who was constantly begging for a dog, you complain a lot!!!!!”

 

So, yeah, the dogs get under foot, but it’s mostly fine; but then… freaking Angles… Cas has his own room at the bunker, but more and more ‘freelance’ angels are getting curious about their former leader, trying to figure out how to do on earth without heaven, and lore in general.

Right about the same time they get wind of some seriously bad omens having to do with unholy births nearby and a few hunters show up in the next town over asking questions.

At this point, Sam’s suggestion of having a meeting at the bunker makes Dean come majorly unglued.

“NO! No, no, no – Batman does NOT reveal the location of the batcave, especially to a bunch of winged dicks and armed drunks!”

Cas is confused. “Does this mean I’m batman?”

“Of course not, dumbass, I’M batman, you can be… I don’t know Catwoman or-“

“Dean, Cas’s got wings and you have a tail, technically speaking I’m pretty sure that makes you-“

“Shut up Loki! Cas, you can be Alfred, I’m Batman.”

Sam rubs the space between his horns and goes to get a drink, trying to fend off the migraine right around the corner.

 

  
They compromise by having the hunters and angels check into hotel nearby.

It’s turns out to be a disaster. No one is entirely surprised.

Their entourage ends up getting evicted, sued and bench warrants are issued for the entire group (not that anyone was using their real name, with the exception of Qaphsiel, which the judge threw out thinking it was a prank.)

The solution to their housing problem, oddly enough, comes from the hellhounds.

One night the hounds just up and disappear.

Dean tries to convince himself he isn’t concerned as he paces a bare spot into the carpet. Just as he’s pouring himself another drink while trying to recreate a locator spell (originally created by a warlock who’s familiar kept wandering off) there’s a distinctive scratching at the door.

Pulling back on his manly façade he throws open the door. “Where the hell have you-“

Dean is cut of by an impatient whine and a set of teeth gently but determinedly dragging him to the impala.

20 minutes later Whiskey is still running full speed, and Dean is struggling to keep up as he guides the car down an unpaved, deserted lane. 

As the dog slows down, Dean sees a large abandoned building- no, more than a building, a cathedral ahead. Quickly following the hellhound, Dean finds himself in the old stables where his world is turned upside down.

There, in a very neat little stall, Juliet is nursing a litter of healthy, fat little hellhound puppies. She looks up at him with a tired but proud wolf-grin.

Dean side-eyes Romeo. “You sly old dog!” 

The hunter frowns slightly, realizing that he has singlehandedly overseen more than doubling of the world’s hell hound population… Oh crap – unholy births… THIS is what the omens were about. THIS is what brought the hunters and angels into town. To hunt down the puppies.

Well only one thing to do… He goes out to trunk to gear up.

_______

 

Dean bursts in on the meeting of hunters and angels, armed to the teeth. Boxes of pink and blue wrapped cigars in one hand and whiskey in the other.

“I’m a grandpa!”

_____

After getting the angels ill on cigars and the hunters happy on hooch, Dean calmly explains that he’s the grandfather to 8 adorable hellhound newborns, and if any of them have a problem with that, Dean will personally bring back Allister’s table from hell and make use of it.

There is only one sentient being brave enough to express concern, an angel wearing the form of a small girl, who has issues about being eaten.

Sam, always the diplomat, offers to take her to see the puppies and let her see for herself that they are not going to be a threat. All of the humans and angels start arguing over who gets to see them first, so in a group zapping they all head over to the cathedral.

 

The girl takes one of the puppies in her small hands under the sharp eyes (and fangs, and claws) of the hell hounds.

After touching it between the eyes, her expression hardens and her eyes glow as she removes her angel blade. There’s a collective gasp as the group moves in to protect the and girl from the hounds the pup from the girl, but the angel simply sits next to an unconcerned Juliet, cradles the hell hound in her lap and sits up straight holding the angel blade at her side.

“He is little and helpless. Father tasked me to look after the small and the weak. I will keep watch over them.” The look in her eye brooks no room for argument, and Juliet gives a small lick of approval on the angel’s baby-fat cheek.

After that Sam has to break up a few fights over who gets the next turn at sentry duty, it turns out that even angels and hardened killers are suckers for puppies. 

These are going to be the safest, best trained animals earth or hell has ever seen. This apocalyptic event seems to be well handled.

 

When they get back to the motel, it’s on fire.

“Ooops.” One of the angels mutters, “Um, my bad. I think I forgot to put out my cigar.”

There is muttering amongst the hunters and angels about which was more destructive, the smoldering cigars or the spilled booze that fueled the flames, but mostly there is concern about where everyone is crashing that night.

Dean shoots Cas and Sam a look that says they are NOT going to bring up the bunker. “Okay, Angels listen up. It’s been great, but house guests are like fish…”

“We are not aquatic, Dean.”

“I believe I could stay underwater for some time without injury-“

“I do have scales in my celestial form-“

“ENOUGH!” 

There are a few slightly offended wing flutters but the heavenly chorus finally shuts up.

“It’s a metaphor, It means you need to go find your own place to stay.” 

Looks like all of that knowledge Metatron imported might actually be useful. It also looks like, from the obediently downturned eyes that Castiel, despite not being a traditional ‘angel’ is still the top (winged) dog among the angelic contingent on earth.

“Humans, same goes for you, we don’t have room for you with us, and I’m not sure there’s another motel in the area with enough insurance coverage to handle you.”

There’s some unhappy grumbling about weapons destroyed in the fire and loss of hellhound visitation rights when Castiel makes a decision.

“Wait a moment, I will return.” Castiel disappears then aperates back after a few seconds. “I have converted one of the bell towers of the cathedral into quarters which should be acceptable to our angelic guests.”

The angels look at each other, – change concerns them – fortunately Castiel has an ace up his sleeve. “I have also converted the second bell tower into a group nesting ground with marshmallows and Netfilx for communal-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence before the hall fills with delighted tittering and disappearing angels.

Sam looks a little worried, and a little more ill at the thought of that many marshmallows.

Dean scowls. “Cas, you can’t just give away a guy’s bell towers.”

“Technically I don’t believe it’s yours either, the angles probably have a better claim to abandoned houses of worship.”

“My hounds found it first, but whatever, just the bell towers...” 

He turns to the departing angels. “Hey, no smiting my dogs if they pee on the rugs, they’re just puppies!”

“Yes, sir. No smiting the knight’s hounds.”

“And no feeding them marshmallows, you’re gonna make’um sick!”

Castiel nods to the ragtag hunters. “You are all welcome to stay in the parish, the facilities are old, but functional, and I have checked the barrels of communion wine, they are still good, but surprisingly potent.”

“Do we get netfix too?”

Castiel nods solemnly.

The rag-tag crew probably only have a dozen teeth between the five of them, but you can see them all as they grin broadly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends, new pets, and excuses for molesting your boy-king against a tree.

A few months later…

 

Castiel arrives at the priory where Dean, Sam and a few hunters are playing poker using communion wafers and drinking beer.

The friendly arguments about which monster could take out another in an arena death-match situation is immediately silenced as the Sin Eater appears.

A painfully thin man lolls in his arms, trucker hat askew, reeking of moonshine and cuddled around a gun, a silver bullet burning in his hands.

“He was praying for me.” Cas explains curtly. “I believe your friend was attempting to load the silver bullet from his necklace, fortunately his level of intoxication made the endeavor futile.”

“Bessy… the baby… gone, gone, gone.” Garth tumbles from Cas’s arms examining the ancient terra cotta tile closely as he drools on them. “No pack… banished… her dad said it… it’s my fault she didn’t make it, my fault the pups didn’t make it...”

Inhuman, heartbroken wails. He takes the bullet, attempting to swallow it, but he only manages to retch it back up, along with a few pints of hooch.

Dean's nurturing nature (which he'll deny to his dying day) immediately takes over and he makes up a cot for Garth next to the 'command central' area where Dean spends most of his waking time. He stands guard to ensure his friend doesn't try to eat another silver bullet or run away and do something equally stupid.

 

After two days Garth is mostly sober, but far from well. He spends his days lying on the cot, sightlessly staring at the ceiling. Dean knows the broken man can hear what's going on around him, but responds to none of it. He's simply a good, broken ex-hunter with nothing to live for anymore.

Ultimately, this is how Dean is able to bring him back.

Dean looks at the map as he gives a frustrated sign into his phone. "No, no, no. Don't bother with the woman in white, you're too far away and the Mitchell's need you in Austin tomorrow if you're up for some vamp action… thought so. Hey, it looks like Jacob's closer, I'll give him a-"

"Don't… idjut."

Dean tries not to smile triumphantly at the hoarse whisper. He schools his features into a look of confused concern as he approaches the cot.

"Hey man, good to hear your voice. What's wrong?"

"Don't send Jacob." The voice rough with disuse gets stronger with each word. "His uncle was killed by a woman in white. No need to put a man through that needlessly… 'sides… Marley's closer and she's already killed a couple of um."

Dean relays the commands and when he turns back to the map Garth is standing in front of it, pondering Dean's system of thumb tacks and post it notes. "Dean, yer a swell guy - or whatever you technically are now… but your system here is balls."

Keeping himself from smiling at his own cleverness while trying not to be offended by Garth's opinion of his organizational skills, Dean clasps the frail hunter's shoulder. "Hey, Sammy's the OCD one, you know that."

Garth just gives a disgusted sigh and picks up one of the many land lines as it rings. "Hello? Yes, this is Sargent Sanders. Of course they have jurisdiction, it's written plain as day under code…"

Dean quietly hums the mission impossible theme song under is breath as Garth proceeds to bullshit the local cops masterfully.

Mission accomplished. He knows Garth will take over command control by the end of the week. Good, Dean was getting tired of sitting on his tail (literally). Time to find Sammy and hit the road. There's a basilisk nest a couple hundred miles away and he's been itching for a hunt.

\---

Castiel’s taking of a familiar is quite unorthodox…

In the middle of their basilisk hunt, the sin eater suddenly appears.

“I need to feed, NOW.”

“Um, Cas, I’m usually never one to turn down a roll in the hay, but this isn’t exactly the time…”

“Dean, this is important, I need power NOW. Go tie your brother to a tree and molest him if you must, but I need to feed immediately.”

Now THAT image has Dean harder than chinese algebra already.

Sam’s protests are less than half-hearted, and soon his hands are bound by Dean’s tail, Dean is on his knees and Cas is feeding with an intensity that has him seeing stars.

After inhaling Sam and Dean’s dark energy, Castiel immediately disappears and reemerges with pair of small sleeping dragons, one in each hand.

“There are no basilisks here, only a pair of scared, orphaned Ruy.”

Dean tries not to let his confusion show.

“Benevolent Japanese dragons.” Sam whispers.

“I knew that.” Dean tries to look offended. “I was just… testing you.”

“Their power recognizes mine.” Castiel strokes the creatures reverently and the boys realize immediately there is no way to convince their sin eater to part with the animals.

Dean makes overgrown lizard jokes for weeks until they end up over their heads in a fight with a rouge demi-god.

Castiel and the dragons breathe fire in tandem and manage to deep fry the evil son of a bitch in a move that seems to surprise both the sin eater and his dragons.

Cas gives a little hiccup and a smoke ring appears. “I was unaware I… they… could do that.”

Dean stops mocking Castiel’s pets after that. Though he will still refer to his sin eater as ‘mother of dragons’.

\-----

Next it's Ms. Tran. The small woman shows up unannounced with Kevin’s spirit ring. After three painstaking years of research in outer Mongolia she believes she has a spell worth trying, one to restore Kevin to a corporeal form. Two days (four angels, a yeti and three bottles of whiskey) later, on the altar of the church; Kevin Tran hugs his mother for the first time in years.

Ms. Tran promptly slaps the young man for dying then does the same to Sam and Dean for getting him killed (Sam obediently leans down for the hit, and kinda wishes she put more power into it.)

She takes a tour around the grounds with her son, sniffing in disdain at a hunter’s dirty coat laying across a pew, scowling when she sees the invisible hell hounds being fed cow hearts from a sacred chalice by a small angel (indoors!) and watching with narrowed eyes as angles throw marshmallows from the bell towers to the pair of dragons circling below.

It becomes obviously that before she’s half way thru the tour they are getting a housemother whether they want one or not. By the end of the day Ms. Tran has set herself up in the Prior’s old quarters and immediately calls a meeting of hunters and angels to discuss the keeping of god’s house.

It’s unclear which group is more terrified of the small woman. But within a week the floors are shined, plumbing and electrical are up to code (with GREAT water pressure) and kitchen spotless. New laundry facilities are up and running and closets with clean linens have been installed… and may GOD have mercy on your soul if you don’t use a coaster when drinking beer in the house of the lord. 

… those are stories that will strike fear in the heart (and other bits) of a sloppy hunter for years.

\-----


	3. Politics of being a boy king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Moose, I’d heard the rumors, but oh my, they are really true!” Crowley’s laugh borders on the hysterical. “Moose has horns, and Squirrel got a tail!!!”
> 
> Sam waits till Crowley manages to compose himself. It feels like years.

In Ms. Tran’s frighteningly capable hands, the main chapel is now back to it’s former glory, the stained glass shining, and for the first time in what seems like forever, Sam allows himself a moment of peaceful contemplation.

Which is of course when a voice, which will make him despise Scottish accents forever, interrupts his revere.

“Moose, I’d heard the rumors, but oh my, they are really true!” Crowley’s laugh borders on the hysterical. “Moose has horns, and Squirrel got a tail!!!”

Sam waits till Crowley manages to compose himself. It feels like years.

“I really wish it were possible to ward against you here Crowley.”

“I know, king of hell and all that… seems unfair… but then you probably wouldn’t exactly be welcome here either, would you, not-so-little prince?” Sam winces. “And you’d have to make Dean relocate his pack… Shame, since he’s having so much fun. Do you know they’re playing fetch with the bones of a lesser saint right now in the graveyard?”

Sam can’t quite hold back a horrified sigh.

“Just kidding, moose, lighten up.” Scoffing laugh then a whisper. “It’s just the bones of a mean old nun.”

Sam decides to ignore the king of hell; he doesn’t need another headache today.

“Look, Moose, as much as I’d love to sit here and discuss your cuddly, absurd domestic situation, we need have a little meeting of the minds. You’re gathering quite the little ‘Pro-Humanity clubhouse over here and don’t think it’s gone unnoticed. We just need to set some rules. You don’t step on my toes, I don’t step on yours. We ask favors occasionally, perhaps team up to stop the end of the world, or end it if you’d like… you know all that kingly stuff.”

Sam suddenly has a reeeeeealy bad feeling about this. “What – I’m not-”

“Hannah, is the newly appointed and very efficient current ruler of Heaven, she’s frighteningly well-organized and, as much as a well run heaven pisses me off, it’s infinitely better than one where angels at war. The featherheads in heaven follow her, they stay up in the clouds and all is good.” Crowley pauses. “And then there’s me, your favorite neighborhood king of hell. A better king of hell than the last dozen if I do say so my damn self; I want souls, the bad, naughty ones, the sinners that deserve to be there; plus the one's I've earned - the ones who sell their souls for money, power, lust and love.” Crowley draws that last one out with a hiss. Sam blushes and looks down.

But now we’re quickly developing a faction in THIS realm, the mortal one. ‘Team Free Will’ is growing, and it’s being led – accidentally or not - by you lot. The once humble hunters and their pet angel… Now the Boy King, his knight, and their Sin Eater.”

“I’m not - I’m mean... it’s only a title – a technicality really.“

“Destiny is destiny my boy, you may have thwarted the ‘boy king of hell’ part, but you were still meant to rule. You should have known when you changed the mark, when you bonded to Dean and Cas, you took on the mantle of prince, that means you're responsible for overseeing supernatural things on THIS plane, the earthly realm.”

Sam feels faint, no it’s a lie, he can’t be… he finds himself reaching out through his psychic link ‘Castiel, Dean, HELP.’

Dark wings are there in a flash, apperating Dean with him. Sam’s knees give out, and Dean holds him as Castiel’s dark wings cover them, protectively. 

“Castiel!” Crowley give a low whistle, "You are looking FINE my no longer feathered friend. Love the new wings, very mid 15 century dragon."

“You trespass here, Crowley. If you wanted to hold a meeting to discuss terms you do it with all parties present.”

Oh, god. Cas is making it sound like this may actually be a THING.

He’s starting to hyperventilate, and Dean reacts instinctively, pressing his lips to Sam’s– sin and sinner – it calms and excites. Sam’s lids lower in pleasure as he feels power surge through the mark, making him want to do dark things to his brother, to feed his sin eater. Dean brushes his lips against his brother’s neck and bites down gently; Sam feels Castiel shiver in anticipation.

A ruffle of feathers and Hannah appears before them.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I come back after the orgy?”

“There will be NO ORGY.” Dean’s angry growl belays an internal smug smile, cause there totally will, be… later.

Hannah nods, taking the words at face value and sits. “Well then, I’ve been expecting this meeting for a while, let’s sit down and come up with some general ground rules until we can all agree upon.”

It’s not an easy negotiation.

THREE HOURS LATER

“No throne!”

“You have to have a throne.” Castiel, Crowley and Hannah as one.

Accusing finger pointed at Hannah. “You have a desk! Why can’t I have a desk?”

“MY people know how to follow rules, Sam. YOU are sitting on a nuclear time bomb of drunk vigilantes, penitent demons and monsters, rouge angels and hellhounds-“

“They need structure, Sam. And none of them are going to be impressed or intimidated by a clear plastic ikea piece of crap!” 

Hannah looks vaguely offended by Crowley’s description of her desk.

“Why don’t I get a throne?”

“Shut up, Dean!” Castiel, Crowley and Hannah as one.

“No, wait, fair point. Dean is my knight-“

“He was my knight first…” Crowley interrupts, churlishly.

“Yes, but now as the mark is changed, he is technically….” Castiel looks up at the ceiling as though hoping it will give him a way not to answer this.

“What!?!? I’m not a knight anymore?” Dean sounds almost hurt.

“No, no you’re still a knight, it’s just that you’re bonded Sam… which makes your official title, Knight Consort.”

“A NIGHT CONSORT – DID YOU JUST CALL ME A WHORE!?!?”

Crowley politely sneaks behind a pillar before giving out the loudest, longest laugh in the history of laughs. The collects himself and comes back to the table.

“Well that’s not going on the business cards.” Dean looks horrified. “Okay, I’ll go for Knight of Hellhounds, but nowhere are we saying anything about this consort business.

"Believe me, when they see you three atop the dais up there, on your THRONES, you won’t have to worry about much except there being a lot of head thunking and cowtowing."

“No thrones.”

“Equal thrones!”

“Shut up, Dean.” At least Crowley, Hannah, Sam and Cas agree on one thing.

It continues to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for reading and hope you're enjoying my little universe, I'm happy to take suggestions as to who/what should appear in the next chapters if anyone has thoughts... I think I'll give Sam a familiar of his own soon - Dean has hell hounds, Cas has dragons... Poor moose is feeling left out of the awesome pet club :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The coven promised me she was the embodiment of pure evil!”
> 
> The box moves.
> 
> “I’ve tried feeding it everything, mice, kittens, virgins, babies, nuns, a Nazi, a pope, hell I even tried feeding it a Nazi pope and NOTHING. It’s starving and not even remotely showing signs of being mean, let alone unadulterated sin.”

Sam tries not to let on, but he’d felt a little left out of the whole ‘awesome pet’ contingent, until the next year when a meeting with Crowley starts with a literal crash.

“Fix her!”

Sam looks up, confused at the crate thrown at his feet.

“The coven promised me she was the embodiment of pure evil!”

The box moves.

“I’ve tried feeding it everything, mice, kittens, virgins, babies, nuns, a Nazi, a pope, hell I even tried feeding it a Nazi pope and NOTHING. It’s starving and not even remotely showing signs of being mean, let alone unadulterated sin.”

Dean tries repress a shudder as a white-yellow albino boa constrictor slides free of the broken box, yards of sinuous, powerful coils undulate as it stares at Sam with blood red eyes.

Sam is entranced by it's beauty. Extending an arm out to the creature, it immediately crosses the room and slithers up one arm across his shoulders and around the other, settling comfortably across the boy king’s shoulders like a mantle.

Despite his squeamishness about reptiles in general, Dean as to admit it suits his baby brother – powerful, dangerous and sexy as hell.

Sam looks into its eyes, obviously having a conversation none of the others can hear. The boy king nods and upturns the palm of his hand, cradling her head.

“Crowley, you’re an idiot. It she needs is power not trussed up meatsuits in ready to serve containers. Why on earth would it want to eat a baby? What would that prove, that a twelve foot snake can take out a newborn?!?! She want’s tribute worthy of her, she wants power.”

He nods at the snake and she gently but eagerly bites down on the offered wrist. “She’s not evil are you sweet girl, just misunderstood.”

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Are you feeding MY snake? I think I should be the one-“

“Sorry, Crowley. She’s mine. She’s chosen me. No takebacks.”

Crowley kicks at the box in frustration, but is obviously not willing to get into an arm-wrestling match over his former pet, even as he looks longingly at the way the animal glows with power as it feeds on the boy king’s blood… Crowley knows the taste of Sam’s blood… The power… The humanity… oh the humanity…

He is unaware of the hunger in his expression, nor the keening hum coming from his throat until he feels Dean's blade pressed to his throat.

“Crowley, my baby brother is OFF the menu for you. No looking, no touching, no eyefucking and NO tasting!”

The king of hell makes some grunting complaints about how well Dean used to share back in the ‘good old days’ but begrudging pulls his eyes away from the tall man.

Sam strokes the reptile’s head as she extracts her fangs. Castiel takes Sam’s wrist into his mouth, licking the blood away and healing the wounds. Sam's train of thought is momentarily derailed as his eyes close in pleasure.

Dean watches his two lovers and makes a sound very close to the one coming from Crowley’s mouth just moments before. His cock and tail twitch in appreciation at the scene.

Sam gathers his wits quickly. “I’ve got an offer Crowley, how bout you leave Eve with me.”

“Her name is Slinky.”

“No, she told me it’s Eve, and she says you suck at naming things.”

“Whatever, what do you have to offer?”

“It’s not what I’m offering, but what I’m willing to take off your hands in exchange.” Sam tilts his head down in the direction of the basement.

Eyes widen with understanding. “YES!” Crowley would like to think the desperation doesn’t show in his voice, but knows he’s failing miserably.

The snake hisses in displeasure at the dark haired man as she winds her way up Sam’s neck, resting her head between his horns and closing her eyes basking in the younger man’s warmth.

Crowley’s eyes suddenly shine with tears, he grabs hands in entreaty. “For the love of all that’s unholy, take that redheaded whore off my hands. Blast her into oblivion, whatever you can do-”

“She’s not THAT bad…”

“Sam, she tried to have you KILL ME, her own son! She tried to kill Dean, and you too!”

“Everyone tries to kill us, we tend not to take it personally anymore.”

Heads nod in agreement.

Dean smiles as Sam sends him his thoughts – “Give me a sec, gotta call in a favor from an ex-girlfriend.”

\---

 

A small but striking redheaded woman is let through the aisle toward three men, sitting at a large table. At Dean’s side, there is a huffing of invisible breath. “Hiya wee doggies, see you’ve a new pack leader.” She whispers as she passes. Her eyes look covetously at castiel. “Oh my, a sin eater, I’d heard the stories, but never expected to see one… exquisite.” She spies Sam, “And you, my beautiful giant…”

He hold up a hand. “Rowena, we’re going to make this simple, you’re too powerful and manipulative to be left unchecked. Crowley has kicked you out of hell, and heaven doesn't want you. That leaves a very few choices: So we have decided on sending you on re-education program for reforming evil, manipulative witches.”

Dean stands and hold out his hand to another red-head. “This is my good friend Anna. She’s tried to kill me, and Sam too, so you’ll get along great. She is the sweetest angel you’ll ever meet and she’s super excited to meet her newest project…”

The young girl is practically jittering with excited energy. “I’ve been authorized to start our new ‘fairy godmother internship program’! The angel brings out sparkly white want with a star on top. “I’m so excited, we’ll spend hundreds of years together, traveling the globe making the wishes of good, deserving children happen…. You’ll get me as your own personal Angel to make sure all the wishes are pure of heart and don’t have any negative….”

The younger (looking) woman’s delighted chatter is overshadowed by a scream of ultimate despair.

The two redheads vanish without a trace.

Castiel’s smile is slow and devilish. “Good work, Dean, I am truly curious to see what a few hundred years in Anna’s tender mercy will do to her.” 

Sam and Dean rise and find themselves enveloped in dark leathery wings. “Now, may we have the orgy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'll end this here, might add more to the universe later, but this feels like a fine place to end for now. Thanks for following me along on the ride and all kudos and comments are adored.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm having waaaaay too much fun writing this little bit of crack-fic. Kudos make me smile and reviews make me dance - thanks for taking the time to read.


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